


the way to the galaxy

by ningningbin



Category: ENHYPEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, It all gets better, M/M, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, just sunghoon growing up around normalized homophobia so he's confused, unbetaed, very cute boys, who am i kidding there's angst because it's me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningningbin/pseuds/ningningbin
Summary: Sunghoon's driven, dedicated to what he does. He refrains from adopting bad habits, and making friends beyond his tight inner circle. All he fills his free time with is dancing on the ice, something he once enjoyed that has, somewhere along the way, soured into weights of stone that tied down his limbs when he skates. He's miserable, he knows, but skating is all he's ever loved, so if he doesn't excel at this, what would that make him?Cue Kim Sunoo, who's so unapologetically himself, who's so endlessly happy, it makes Sunghoon crave all the things he's denied himself before. Above everything, Sunoo brings with him a new definition of happiness that hands Sunghoon colors.All kinds of colors; and every hue in the spectrum, every shade of red. Sunoo brings with him joy, and Sunghoon finds himself wanting to learn what that's like, too. To live in color.
Relationships: Kim Sunoo & Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo/Park Sunghoon
Comments: 28
Kudos: 154





	1. Part 1.0: Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Just a little note for trigger warnings that'll spoil the fic potentially. If you prefer reading the whole thing through yourself, please proceed with caution! And if not, that's okay too :}
> 
> So here's a little introduction to this fic: it's essentially about Sunghoon falling in love and realizing that there's no boundaries separating one thing from the other. But it takes some time, because he's grown up around conservative parents his whole life and when he meets the little ball of sunshine Sunoo is, he really isn't sure what to think. My writing style is such that I write like my characters think, even in 3rd POV, so everything Sunghoon thinks of Sunoo initially does not reflect mine at all!!! It's just a plot device to kick off his character development arc. When this fic is completed, if you read it from the start to end continuously, you'll be able to see Sunghoon's pattern of thinking change considerably! Not only that, but he also gets less awkward and better at talking to people, I swear :]
> 
> So here are some trigger warnings to look out for:  
> \- homophobia (not from any of the main characters)  
> \- usage of homophobic slurs (^^^^^^^^^)  
> \- internalized homophobia on Sunghoon's side  
> \- stereotypical idea of what masculinity is (initially, on Sunghoon's side as well)  
> \- body image (Sunghoon's parents used to put him on a diet)
> 
> and that's about it! if you'd like me to add anything else, please feel free to comment
> 
> That's about it! enjoy this fic and thanks so much for clicking in :]
> 
> (also, this is my first fic written in present tense so do point out anything you feel is a mistake, I really really appreciate it!)

Sunghoon still remembers the first time he got onto the rink—it was cold, sure, and very very slippery, but his mum had come prepared, it seemed. As soon as Sunghoon let out his first shaky sigh, she pulled out a sweater that she helped him get into. He still hasn't forgotten the bright red hearts printed onto the black fabric, partly because his mum had immortalized the moment in a photo and taped it up on their refrigerator, but mostly... _mostly_ , he recalls every detail because it was _the_ turning point in his life.

After all, it was the first time he'd fallen in love.

When he eased himself into the rink, it'd felt like being reunited with an old friend. To hear his mother tell it, he was so comfortable on the ice that even as she backed off, leaving him to skate alone, he didn't even look like he realized he was then on a bike without the safety tires. He fell, countless times over the years, but while most people only felt pain and discomfort, it always was a little inside joke between him and his friend.

It's all different now. Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten how to feel good on ice, how to breeze past with the icy wind rushing below his outspread arms like they were trying to lift him up, higher and higher. The impossible has happened—even the headlines said so, commenting on how he often looked like he was in agony every second he spent skating. His team had tried to play it off as fatigue, a side effect of being under the spotlight since the tender age of nine. His parents took him to so many different doctors, he'd learned to stop counting the visits and just let them happen. _Was it a problem with his bones? Is he being overworked? Is it a condition that can be cured? Can he still compete the next season?_

Only he had truly known where the problem lied, but it was the kind of truth that wouldn't be well-accepted by almost everyone that matters in his life. With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, everyone he knows, he met in competitions or at training camps. He hadn't really realized how much his life revolved around figure skating until a month ago, when he broke down inexplicably and cried for two days straight, followed immediately by the second major turning point in his life: he'd caved in and told his parents that he had fallen out of love with it.

So now, he's been re-enrolled back into regular school—the one he attended before opting for online classes instead—until the doctors his parents were inviting from all over the country could diagnose their precious son's issue. He hates it, hates how they refuse to believe and trust his narrative, but what other viable option does he have at the moment?

Autumn is slowly receding, making way for winter, and Sunghoon's heart sinks as imagines what his first day at school will be like, how he would be expected to explain everything all over again.

What was there to explain? What _could_ he say, to sate their curiosity when he couldn't even answer his own questions?

It's funny, he thinks to himself, how there's always a clear line to distinguish when you're falling in love, but never one to discern when you're falling out. Because he's been there, and he knows, that it just happens— _it. Just. Happens._

And regardless of how many different scenarios he conjures in his head, there was simply no way to stop the heart from indulging in its fickle whims.

He's been perched by the window for a good half hour now as he waits for his friends' arrival. The original plan was for him to take the school bus, where he could potentially meet new friends to start off his school life, but that idea was thrown out the window pretty quickly when Jay offered an alternative.

Jay [20:43]: It's fine, I can drive you. You live pretty close to Heeseung hyung anyway

Sunghoon [20:44]: you guys literally live on the other side of town

Jay [20:44]: Look, we just want to be nice to you!! It's fine if you'd rather take the bus tho ;) With all those new people...

Jay [20:44]: Is this the right time to remind you that you hate people?

Sunghoon [20:45]: i get it

Sunghoon [20:45]: thanks, it means a lot

And so now, he can barely contain the anxiety as a thousand thoughts race inside his head—what if they _don't_ come. What if they do, but they're late. Then _he_ would be late, and everyone's going to watch as he walks into class. He doesn't think he can take any more attention on top of how much spotlight he's already going to get from being _the_ Park Sunghoon who's mysteriously gone into hiatus. Or maybe these people don't care much for sports. Or maybe—

Two loud honks sound from outside, and Sunghoon picks up his bag, and dashes out his room and down the stairs, where his heart sinks upon the sight of his worrying mother by the front door.

"Good morning sweetheart," she murmurs, concern laced into her carefully enunciated words. They've been very careful with him lately, handling him like he's a porcelain doll that might fall any second and crack. He's _already_ cracked, and he can't fathom why they don't see that. Perhaps they do, but they just don't care to accept it. Whatever it is, Sunghoon has made up his mind not to forgive them. At least not till things get better at home.

He spares her a curt nod and brushes past her to go out the door.

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" she calls after him. He pauses in his steps before awkwardly bending down to put on his socks and shoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Jay has rolled down the windows and is popping his head out to greet his mum, followed immediately by Heeseung's over-enthusiastic, "Morning, Mrs. Park!"

"I'm fine—I'll just grab something to eat at school," he answers quietly as he stands up again. He debates reaching over to give her a hug, if only to ease the wrinkles between her brows, but then he remembers the rage that contorted her features when he told them he was going to quit skating and stops himself short. Instead, Sunghoon lets the heavy silence hang in the air for a good few seconds before he turns and heads towards the obnoxious black truck Jay had dubbed _his baby._

He climbs into the backseat and is immediately enveloped in warmth from the cranked-up heater.

Sunghoon stares into the mirror and is bombarded by Jay's infectious white-toothed grin. He slowly feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards, too. As Jay starts driving again, Heeseung turns back and leans in for a quick fist bump, and Sunghoon hasn't hung around enough friends to realize that interactions like these are supposed to _feel_ normal. _This—_ feeling like he's one of them—is supposed to be the norm for teenage boys like him. He can't help but feel upset his "passion" has stolen that part of his journey to growing up. Jay and Heeseung _are_ his friends, but even in moments like this, it feels like he's intruding in on something. They have years of inside jokes to keep their conversations going for hours. Sunghoon, for the most part, just sits and stares and nods along when he understands and keeps quiet when he doesn't. He hopes that this change in his life will correct that.

It _has_ to—he's giving up so much for some semblance of normalcy that this has to work. After all, this was his last resort.

"So, how are we feeling today?" Jay asks from the driver's seat, his eyes glued to the road. Sunghoon's glad it seems like Jay is a pretty trustworthy driver and relaxes into his position.

"Just," he starts to reply, peeling his eyes off of the two of his friends to look out the window, "kinda nervous." Wetting his lips, he closes his eyes and feels his heart thumping away. "I mean, I'm going to actually have to talk to people."

A round of small laughter echoes in the car and Heeseung catches his eyes, saying, "The people at school don't bite. I'm sure they'll be nice to you."

"But did you practice on how to speak to people last night?" Jay adds.

Sunghoon sits up straighter. "No, am I supposed to?"

"It's so easy to mess with you," Heeseung laughs. "But really, it'll probably help in making new friends to not be weird. A little weird is good, it's fine, but _a lot of it_ will probably scare them off."

From his position, Sunghoon can see Jay's eyes roll to the back of his head and his Adam's apple bob. _Wow_ , he's being incredibly preceptive today, noticing things he wouldn't have otherwise. Previously, he's been told off on his habit of avoiding eye contact when he's talking to someone. And it's true, it does—it's irrefutable. But he finds it insufferably uncomfortable to stare into someone's eyes in the middle of the conversation. _Like_ , _what the fuck is he supposed to do when he needs to blink?_ "What Heeseung hyung means to say is, you'll do fine. Just don't act... alien," he explains. "I mean, you do fine around us, so I don't see why you need to be worried about making more friends."

"I don't get the emphasis on this... _making more friends_ thing anyway. I'm okay with you the two of you," Sunghoon crosses his arms and leans back. "It's not like my survival completely depends on how many people I talk to on the daily."

"That's true," Heeseung agrees with a small smile, "but you have to understand that it'll probably make life easier for you. You don't have to _go out of your way_ to introduce yourself to everyone, but what we're getting at is... make effort. They'll see it, appreciate it, and _BAM!_ You have friends. _And,_ we'd be more than happy to hang out with you at lunch, but chances are you're going to have classes in slots where both of us have something else."

"I've been doing well on my own all these years, I'm sure I can manage one or two hours of solitude," he waves off.

And for the first time, Sunghoon sees worry flash across Jay's face. "You know, Sunghoon, opening up to people isn't the worst thing ever. I can attest to that. And becoming friends isn't exactly jumping from _heys_ to telling one another your darkest secrets right away. Sometimes it's just better to have a fixed someone to sit next to in class. Personally, I prefer that to sitting all alone."

"It's _cool_ ," Sunghoon argues, though even his voice sounds unconvincing to his own ears, "you know, to sit alone."

"You base your idea of cool around all the movies you watch _alone_ at home," the oldest among them chides, mirth in his wide eyes. "Just try it out for a change. There are some of our friends that we'll introduce to you at lunch! They're really great at making others feel comfortable around them so you don't have to worry."

"And if I _don't_ feel comfortable?" Sunghoon challenges.

Jay purses his lips and shakes his head the slightest bit, exhaling through his nose heavily. "All we're asking is that you give it your best shot. So you don't regret it."

"When I go back to the rink?" he bites, the words coming out strong with an accusatory edge to them. It was starting to dawn on him that they weren't here because they truly wanted to give him a ride to school—maybe they were here on his parents' request, to sweet-talk him into giving up his secrets. To later relay everything back to Sunghoon's parents. He has never considered this before, but now that he's already thinking about it, it could really be true.

Almost like he's tired, or disappointed or whatever, Jay lets loose another sigh while Heeseung remains pointedly silent. "I'm sorry if that came out the wrong way, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then, _what_ did you mean?"

"Let's be honest, Hoonie," gingerly, Jay starts to speak after a pause, picking and choosing the words off the tip of his tongue. "This isn't your first announcement about taking a break—"

"It's different this time!" Sunghoon insists, his voice unintentionally rising. "It's all over the news that I'm quitting, there's no way back in for me now! This is what I've chosen, and I'm going to stick with it."

"I know, I know," replies Heeseung in that soft voice of his. It soothes Sunghoon's feelings and apparently has an instant calming effect on Jay as well. "Hoonie, we're just worried about you. We know that skating is, well... really important to you. We've seen what you look like on ice, and you were always really, _really_ happy on the rink. We say this all the time, but you really do skate better than you walk. I don't know what happened, but we understand that going on hiatus definitely wasn't an easy decision to make. All we want you to know is that we're only ever going to look out for you with your best interests in heart."

Something's stinging Sunghoon in the eyes and he doesn't like it—he doesn't want to cry.

_Boys don't cry, Sunghoon-ah,_ his mum's voice echoes clearly at the back of his head, _do you want all these reporters to see you cry? You don't, do you? So smile. Sunghoon-ah, smile!_

"We don't know what happened," Jay repeats, taking on a gentler approach this time, "but in the case that you find skating enjoyable again, we'll be there for you to support you on the sidelines. We just don't want you to look back on this _stretch_ of high school life like it's some dark past. We know this isn't usually your scene, but... we'll try our hardest to make it a good memory. We swear that's all there is to it. _I_ swear, on my baby." At that moment, Sunghoon startles, realizing that they're already pulling into the parking lot and Jay is beginning to reverse into his spot.

They're here. And it's really happening.

Then both his friends turn to look at him, fixing him with their own comforting smile, and Sunghoon harbors a tiny, little spark of hope that it just might be alright.

The mix of scents that are individually pleasant, but turn foul when they meet, that permeates the hallways of his new school immediately trenches Sunghoon's hopes of starting the day with a good first impression. As soon as they walk in with Jay leading the group, Sunghoon catches onto a sense of dread that he will really, _not_ fit in. They go to a rather upscale performing arts school, and while they rake in all the trophies annually when it comes to their widely-acknowledged curriculum and academics track record, the people here are not known to be nice. Sunghoon's first reaction as he steps in—a nose twitch, followed by a scowl he could barely mask. Next to him, Heeseung notices his reaction and nudges him with his elbow.

"Stop being a diva, people are watching," the older boy urgently hisses.

"Why does this place smell like onions and garlic?" he asked, concern written all over his face. He hopes that he asked it quietly enough that no one else heard his question.

"Does it? I never noticed," Jay says, tilting his head upward to sniff the air.

Heeseung curses audibly and smacks the back of Jay's head. "Don't encourage him," he warns under his breath. And Sunghoon's got to admit, being with his best friends—his only friends, really—while they goof around is really one of the few good changes that's taken place in his life when he takes the past few months into account. But the rest of the two boys' conversation drifts off as Sunghoon places his attention elsewhere—his surroundings.

He supposes he looks like a meerkat, what with how much he's turning his head left and right as he assesses everything—from the way these people incorporated chains and shiny jewelry to their already colorful outfits so comfortably, to the huge graffitis decorating every available space on the walls. _Is that a boy wearing a skirt?_ Sunghoon quickly tears his eyes away and hopes to god no one saw his cheeks flame up. Even the lockers seem personalized, all gaudy and flamboyant and... _weird._ And Heeseung hyung had the guts to lecture him on not being excessively weird in the car? _Everything_ in this school screamed _I'm weird_ , and no one seems to notice. He's been here before—well, in the middle schoolers' wing, but _still—_ he doesn't remember registering this many eyesores all in one scene. Sunghoon actively tries to make eye contact with every normal-seeming person he sees and smiles just in case he really needs some candidates as friends for as long as he goes here.

"Okay, the school is huge and it's going to take some time getting used to," Jay says, his voice finally coming back to join Sunghoon's reality, "but you're going to fit in just fine."

At that, he quirks an eyebrow and Jay rubs the back of his nape, embarrassed at being caught out on his blatant lie. "Maybe not right away, but everyone finds their own place here eventually."

"That's like, the fourth time you've said it today! You are seriously hopeless at giving pep talks," Heeseung groans into his hands, but even that can't hide the smile on his face. He jabbed a finger into Sunghoon's chest, feigning seriousness, "You, sir, are going to have the best first day of your life. I know there's a little bit of fun in there somewhere, so whatever you do, you must _find_ _it_ , and _bring it out_. Also, the teachers usually go easy on you on the first day. You're majoring in modern dance, so you're definitely going to be in your element. Take this opportunity to connect better! And Hoonie, when did you start working out? Your chest is feeling pretty firm—"

"Enough, he's overwhelmed as is," Jay interrupts, and Sunghoon shoots him a grateful look. "We'll walk you to the admin's office but we'll have to leave you there."

Sunghoon's heart sinks. "What, you guys have to go so soon?"

Jay smirks and throws his head back with bravado, running his fingers through his strawberry-blond hair. "Never knew that one day, the infamous ice prince Park Sunghoon would be _begging_ for me to stay..."

"We have Composition for first period and it starts soon," his other friend responds with another sad punch aimed at his pecs, and Sunghoon is smart enough to dodge it this time round. "Don't worry! we could still meet each other in class if our schedule lines up. And if it doesn't, we'll be sitting at lunch with you so you don't have to eat alone at the bleachers while you watch everyone joke with their friends."

"I'm capable of making my own friends, thank you very much," Sunghoon snides in the heat of the moment, and regrets it as soon as the words slip out his mouth.

"Well, there we go!" Jay hoots triumphantly, a stupid grin hanging off his lips. "Prove us wrong and bring your own friend to sit with us at lunch! For Park Sunghoon, junior gold medalist with a killer smile that brings everyone onto their knees, that shouldn't be a very hard task, right?"

"Ah, if only he would smile sparingly instead of smoldering all the time..." sighs a wistful Heeseung, hands clasped to his chest.

"It's _brooding_. He _broods_. It's his whole concept, don't you get it? Swan on the rink, ice prince in the streets—" Sunghoon reaches forward to choke Jay, if only to shut him up, and his friend manages to swat Sunghoon's hands away just in time, miming closing a zipper as he presses his lips into a thin line. Heeseung watches them with amusement and breaks out into laughter, attracting the attention of curious onlookers lining the halls. And Sunghoon—all he can do is pray that they turn away soon, or that the ground would open up to swallow him whole. Yeah, the latter option would be pretty good too.

Except, the earth doesn't comply today, and Sunghoon makes a mental note to pray more often if it means that he'd be granted the ability to escape situations like this thereafter.

He pushes both his friends and urges them to bring him to the admin's office quickly, and they do so albeit snickering all the way. After a brief goodbye, Sunghoon is deposited alone in front of the foreboding glass doors with black frames, looking like a helpless kitten in a cardboard box.

And it's then that he first bumps into the flurry in pink— _really_. It was an atrocity to look at. When Sunghoon realizes it's a _boy_ who's all dressed up in all shades of pink and not a girl, the confusion just doubles as they both stand there, facing each other, mouths open, not doing anything besides staring. It takes a hot minute for Sunghoon to notice that the boy ( _in pink!!!)_ is staring at him with what can only be called reverence. He's all too familiar with the look. He's seen it a thousand times reflected in every face in the crowd as he steps up to the podium to receive his medals. This boy... recognizes him.

_Great_. That's the last thing he needs at the moment.

The second thing Sunghoon notices, is that he has pink and white clips in his black hair, and makeup on. The fluorescent light bouncing off his pink lip gloss is what draws Sunghoon back to earth, and even then, he's still wondering if this guy is just a girl with a boy cut. He's too... _pretty_ to be a boy.

"Hey, you're the guy on the cereal box, right?" The voice attached to the owner suits him well, Sunghoon decides. It's light and airy, and pleasant to listen to. He feels fucking bad for feeling uncomfortable around this guy even before they've gotten to know each other. He doesn't want to be, so he balls his hands up into fists and clenches the hem of his sweater. _Then_ , he realizes he's being talked to. He's having a lot of realizations today.

He's out of his mind, and his palms are sweaty, and his thoughts are racing past the speed limit in his brain.

"Cereal box...?" he trails off, the end of the sentence hanging in the air to form a question. Sunghoon can't tell if he's just an asshole or merely antisocial when he finds himself hoping the guy will just give it up and be on his way. They can't be having conversations about cereal outside the admin's office! Where's the sense of normalcy he's trying to preserve?

But, as it suits Sunghoon's shit overall luck, the boy doesn't give up. In contrary, he keeps going, looking more intrigued than ever. And the worst part is, looking at the playful smile on his glossy lips is making Sunghoon want to return it tenfold. "Yeah, you know! The red and yellow one with the rainbow font. I can't recall the name right now... I've only ever had it once. I'm not a big cereal fan, or even cornflakes. It's the milk—I'm lactose intolerant. But I think I remember thinking the cereal was good! Just not... good enough for me to want to risk bending over the toilet for another half hour, you know? I'm sure the cereal you endorse tastes amazing. If only it could be considered normal to eat cereal without the milk," he rambles off, before he catches himself and flushes. Sunghoon can only stand there, as though he'd be struck by lightning if he so much as move an inch. He watches the boy's ( _pink)_ blush gradually disappear as his face colors red with embarrassment. He casts Sunghoon a sheepish smile. "I talk too much, don't I?"

Sunghoon has to clear his throat and close his eyes for longer than he needed to so he could look away, if only for a moment. He's scared all the staring may be rude. _Or does he want to be looked at?_ Sunghoon wonders. _You don't dress like that to school and expect not to be stared at_.

And then, he realizes, for the nth time today, he's still expected to answer.

"Yeah, uh. _Yeah,"_ he mumbles inaudibly. "Bunny Rngr's Cereal. Yeah, I think I endorsed it for a year," he answers, and the conversation goes cold. Momentarily, Sunghoon worries that he's supposed to say something more than that, and he stumbles through the first sentence that came to mind, "Sorry about yo-your lactose intolerance. It must be hard."

The boy narrows his eyes and quirks his head to the left, letting out an incredulous burst of chuckles.

"Was that insensitive of me?"

"No, _no._ It's just that no one has ever reacted to my lactose intolerance like that before..." he responds calmly, his words ringing with an undertone of pure amusement. "Are you a model of some kind? You must be new around here—I've never seen you!"

"Oh, I'm a figure skater— _was_. Or, am. I don't know, I'm currently on hiatus so I re-enrolled back into physical classes."

"You used to take online classes? Must be boring."

"Boring? Why?" he asks immediately, perhaps too enthusiastically, because the boy furrows his eyebrows for a split second like he's trying to figure Sunghoon out in his head. Well, the same thing was going on in _Sunghoon's_ head—is it normal at this school? For boys to wear skirts and this much pink and makeup on top of that? He's worn some makeup before, of course, when he's competing. But the other boys his age who has to wear makeup takes them off right after their performance ends, always grumbling about how _gross_ it is. The only other person he's seen wear this much eyeshadow is his mother. Sunghoon doesn't think she pulls it off as well as this boy does, and he's not sure if that's a compliment so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Well, for one, you can't see your friends in online school. You just re-watch the lectures and review the material whenever you have time, right?" Sunghoon nods. "Yeah, I had to take a sem of online classes last year. It wasn't fun at all," he pouts and pulls a sad face, and again, Sunghoon's left awestruck thinking how this boy can just... act like this so effortlessly and without a single care in the world.

"I like it, it's actually pretty peaceful," he mutters.

The boy scrunches his nose and Sunghoon thinks he might be acting cute, being pretty. _Should I be thinking this is cute and pretty?_ Then, the boy in pink shrugs, "To each their own. I could never survive without talking to someone the whole day. See you around, I guess."

Sunghoon shoves both his hands into his pockets and nods, hoping that it looks cool. Or normal, at the very least. He regrets everything as the boy scans him up and down in delight again, like a kid on Christmas morning. Or a kid who's watching a clown at the circus.

They both look away, and, just like Sunghoon _knows_ god hates him, they both reach forward to push the glass door open. Exchanging weirded-out glances at the same time, the boy finally breaks the silence first. "Oh, well... you first."

And thank the lord for his height—Sunghoon easily presses a hand to the door just right above the boy's head and gestures for the latter to go in.

"This isn't really something to fight about but okay," he giggles, moving in swiftly. "Thanks."

As soon as they're inside, Sunghoon's relieved, because not only was the air-conditioning providing the right amount of coolness to ease the sweating going on in his armpits and back, but the smell of onions and garlic was considerably less noticeable. Instead, it reeked of perfume and cologne. Citrus and sandalwood. He's always been very partial towards nice scents, and he likes this calm atmosphere. There's the constant beeping of machines, the rhythmic sound of papers being printed and copied, and if he doesn't count the brief glance the receptionist gave them, they are being deliberately ignored. Great.

Because he can't stand waiting any longer, riddled with anxiety of being potentially tardy to his first period, Sunghoon steps up to the glass counter. "Hey, good morning. I'm a new student here and I'd like to get my schedule, please."

The woman, dressed in a sleek, immaculately ironed grey suit appraises him like she's deciding if she should help and he squirms under the attention, losing composure for a second. With a bored sigh, she lazes over to the computer and asks for his name.

"Park Sunghoon," he answers quickly, not wanting to take up more time than he has to.

"Alright, we have your e-mail in the system. I'll just send you the schedule now along with the map and layout of the campus. Do you need a physical copy?"

"Yes, please."

That seems to be the wrong answer, because she loudly exhales through her nose and makes a show of swivelling around to fetch a printed copy of both the timetable and the map for him. She slides them onto the counter and taps with manicured fingers once, twice. "There you go. Is that all?"

"Yeah, thanks," Sunghoon breathes out, stepping aside to let the boy approach her next. He quickly scans over the schedule and his heart sinks like an anchor's tied to it when he learns that he has _Maths—_ of _all things_ —for first period. Looks like all the energy he's had left for the rest of the day is going to be sapped before he can even get to lunch. Before he can leave, he hears the boy call out to him.

"Hey, what do you have right now?"

"Maths," he grimaces, much to Pink Boy's amusement.

Pink Boy quirks his head to the left again, and Sunghoon thinks it might be a cute habit of his. "Really? Me too! Is it Mr. Lee's class?"

Sunghoon nods, and the boy grins, his whole face lighting up instantly. It matches his clothes, though Sunghoon still doesn't understand it. He's not _against_ it—he _just_. Doesn't get why someone would voluntarily stand out like that, especially in a way that could be seen as negative to some people. _Shit,_ he catches himself, _am I an asshole for thinking that?_ _I think I am._

"Great! If you don't have anyone to sit next to already, we could sit together, if you want."

"That'd be nice," Sunghoon responds, and he realizes ( _again,_ _he's_ _realizing something)_ rather belatedly that his reply sounds lackluster. He gives one final nod to Pink Boy and ducks out the office, holding the map in his hand to find his way to L01-Seoul. It might be lame and embarrassing to use a _map_ , of all things, in a high school hallway, but he thinks it might be a tiny bit better than the horror of approaching someone for directions. It isn't until he's standing right in front of his first class that he startles. He'd missed his chance to offer to wait for Pink Boy so they could walk to class together. That's something people do, right? As friends... He has no idea, considering how all his life, friends were merely familiar faces who show up to your birthday parties so you wouldn't be stuck alone with your parents.

He _wants_ to sit with the boy. At least, he thinks he does. And now he doesn't even know if Pink Boy has a regular group he sits with. Sunghoon decides that, unsurprisingly, he's really bad at making acquaintances, what more friends.

Sliding the door open, Sunghoon gingerly steps inside, and all heads of all the most unnatural colors turn, bobbing as they inspect the new guy curiously. Sunghoon closes the door behind him and hangs around the front of the class awkwardly, waiting for someone— _anyone_ —to address him first.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long before their teacher arrives, herding in a group of giggling students who head to their seats right away, side-eyeing Sunghoon and nothing more. He doesn't know what he'd expected the night before, but this is all much calmer than the hectic picture he'd painted in his head. It's off-putting that so far, it isn't as bad as he'd initially thought it would be. He supposes it's a small _something_ he can celebrate, but Pink Boy is still missing and he doesn't know where to sit. His eyes slide over to the teacher, who's bending over his tab, scrolling like he's intently focused on looking for something. Finally, his head snaps up and his stern face melts into a warm smile Sunghoon isn't accustomed to receiving on the daily.

"Ah, Park Sunghoon, am I right? I was told one of my online students would be transferring in today," he says, and Sunghoon doesn't know how he's supposed to respond, so he steps in closer and executes a small but polite bow. When he straightens his back, his teacher is beaming. "I was worried that it would be hard for you to catch up, but you've done well in last week's assignment I see."

Sunghoon tries his very hardest to maintain the eye contact going on. _Don't look away, don't look away don'tlookaway—_

"You're on the more chatty side, aren't you?" the teacher pipes up again after reviewing all of Sunghoon's records. The man's eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles before he realizes that it must've been a joke, because an uncertain round of laughter is emitting from the rest of the class, too. He shrugs and looks down. "Well, Sunghoon, care to introduce yourself?" Now _this_ isn't a question, but an order. Because the man steps away from the podium and pats the wooden surface gently to invite Sunghoon to speak. And while no one is boring their eyes into him in a threatening way, Sunghoon still feels like he'd rather be sucked into a blackhole than speak to a class of no less than thirty people right now.

But then Jay's smug face flashes across his mind and Sunghoon concludes that the humiliation of this experience would probably last for a shorter duration than Jay's teasing if he loses the bet, so he musters up all his energy to form _half_ of a fake smile. Someone at the back of the class squeals audibly, and they all burst into laughter in unison. He can't see who it was, and he doesn't think he cares—they all look like blobs of the same gray shadow to him.

"Hi, my name's Park Sunghoon. I'm eighteen this year, and it's my first time actually attending school for the first time since... four years ago, so I hope that you guys can look after me. Thank you." He pauses, then throws in a _half_ a bow for good measure, to smattering applause that breaks the radio silence.

"That's all?" his teacher asks kindly, just to be sure, and Sunghoon nods his assent. "Okay, well, let's see... where can we put you—"

"Morning sir!" The door to the class slides open with more force than needed, and Pink Boy's here, and something about the energy in the room shifts. He can't read the expressions on their faces, can't figure out if their smiles mean something good or if it gravitated more to the opposite end of the spectrum. But his teacher, once again, flashes his pearly whites and he guesses at least that's something.

"Good morning. Hey, don't you have an empty seat next to you?" Pink Boy's grin widens just a little more, and the grip he has on the straps of his backpack loosens.

"Yeah, I do," he chirps, then nods in acknowledgment to Sunghoon, who jolts at the prospect of being addressed. "He can sit with me if he wants."

"Yeah? Is that okay with you, Sunghoon?" 

Taking everything into consideration, the muffled snickers and otherwise, Sunghoon doesn't think it's appropriate to say no, so he nods and follows Pink Boy to his new seat, which was thankfully by the windows where yellow sunlight filters in so brightly, you could see the little particles of dust float around in the shaft of light. The boy takes his usual seat in the inner corner and gestures for Sunghoon to take the one closer to the aisle. He thinks he hears the class resume as soon as they both settle down but he's not sure—he's too busy staring, trying to gather the right things to say.

"You know, Cereal Guy, it's kinda rude to stare," Pink Boy whispers, and his wisp of a voice draws Sunghoon nearer.

"My name's Park Sunghoon," he replies dumbly.

"I know."

"You do?" He leans back in surprise, then mirrors the boy's actions to take out the heavy math textbook from his bag.

After sighing with exasperation, the boy moves his chair closer so he can flip Sunghoon's book to the right page. He looks up, and Sunghoon's suddenly hyper-aware of how close they are, though the boy doesn't seem to realize it. They're close enough that Sunghoon _swears_ he can make out the tangles in the boy's long, sweeping eyelashes. "You should pay attention in class, I don't think you're that great at multi-tasking," he jokes, then leans away like nothing happened. "How do you already have your books ready?"

"I got them at the start of the year."

"You brought _everything_ to school?"

_Shrugging is the way to go,_ and he does. His mind and limbs right now seem to be in a disconnect, the input going in faster than the order arrives at his nerves.

"Damn, your bag must weigh like a shit ton of rocks," the boy whistled, almost in admiration as he studies Sunghoon with that same, unreadable look again.

"Yeah. I'm surprised my back hasn't broken yet, actually."

"Well look at that! He _does_ joke."

"On occasion," Sunghoon replies sheepishly. He's rather proud he's capable of making a joke with a non-friend himself. He's glad he hasn't lost _all_ of his social skills just yet, though Heesung and Jay would argue otherwise.

The boy nods to himself almost approvingly. "And of course I know your name. You kinda said it in the office. And I was right outside the door when you were introducing yourself."

"Ah, that's why you walked in at the perfect time," Sunghoon blurts.

"Life is all about making the right entrances at the _perfect time,"_ he quotes Sunghoon, offering a wink so casually Sunghoon has to try not to sputter as he calms himself. This boy—he's weird. He's definitely out of the ordinary, but he must be what Heeseung calls the _good_ kind of weird, because Sunghoon's already feeling that this boy just has an aura that makes him easy to talk to. Like... things are just _easy_ with him. Sure, he wears two clips on either side of his head and he's dressed in pink from head to toe and he wears as much makeup as Sunghoon's mother does and he's definitely not doing it for a competition, but he's nice. And Sunghoon finds himself hoping that it isn't too clingy to want this guy to sit with him for the rest of all his Math classes, too.

"I... didn't get your name," he slowly says, and smiles when Pink Boy does.

"Thought you'd never ask—I'm Kim Sunoo!"

And now Sunghoon's got a name to attach to Pink Boy, and he thinks to himself that... it's a pretty name. It suits him. _Sunoo_. 

(He supposes, in a way, this is how their story begins: when they meet on the day Sunoo's decided to arrive all decked out in pink. Later, Sunghoon learns that it isn't just pink—because, in the outfit, he's managed to incorporate thulian pink, amaranth, taffy, and something called _blush pink_ and not make it look bad. He thinks it's something good, and when Sunoo smiles after introducing all his precious pinks to Sunghoon, he smiles, too.)

(It isn't until later _later,_ that he learns from Sunoo the meaning behind all those pinks, and why there are more shades than one.)

(I hope you'll be there to learn with him, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH YOU'RE HERE YOU MADE IT! I can't relay enough how much this fic means to me.
> 
> Please do comment your thoughts and COMMUNICATE WITH ME >:[ lest I feel lonely 
> 
> I have twitter too! @ricecookerym
> 
> See you guys next chapter and ily!


	2. Part 1.1: Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't get used to fast updates if there's anything you should know about me it's that i'm the most inconsistent person when it comes to updating. i might even fuck around and go on hiatus for a year (it's happened before oops)
> 
> jkjk i'll try my best. i love you!!!

Maths ends five minutes earlier so they have a total of ten minutes to shuffle to their next class. Sunghoon frowns when he learns that Sunoo _doesn't_ have Hip-hop next, so they have to split up and he's going to have to find someone else to pair up with if they have a group assignment. With Sunghoon's ongoing shit luck streak, they most probably will.

"I have... Lyrics and Composition on the floor above," Sunoo whines as he stretches, "which reminds me, it's a two-hour class and it's going to kill me. _Physically_ , and I'm not even kidding! The thing is, in this stupid class, we're encouraged to do everything but sit. Apparently switching around positions promotes blood flow to your brain somehow? And it could help boost your creativity or some bullshit like that. It's not even true, and I keep trying to tell my teacher that but she just won't listen. _'Sunoo, stop fooling around and get back to writing'—_ I can't write if I'm not sitting! What am I supposed to support my paper with? The walls? The _mirrors?_ And when I'm not sitting, all I can think about wanting to sit... no lyrics come to mind at all." He blows out a breath and pounds the desk, the loud sound startling Sunghoon. The latter props himself up in his chair and blinks lazily, thinking he should probably hurry to class soon. He doesn't want to be late. But before that—

"Hey, Sunoo?" he asks, and immediately hates how timid he sounds. He might regret his decision later, but Sunghoon thinks, _fuck it. It's not like I'm going to meet someone else as friendly anyway._ "Do you have anyone you usually sit at lunch with?"

The boy shrugs and mumbles something incoherent, his eyes falling to the floor.

If someone with a disposition as bright as Sunoo's doesn't have regular lunchmates, there are _zero_ chances of Sunghoon being able to barge into a clique and fit in right away. He'll take his chances with Sunoo. He's nice enough, and he thinks Jay and Heeseung wouldn't mind it—all the excessiveness. _That you don't mind_ , his mind adds on helpfully.

"I have some friends who want to eat with me later, care to join? If you don't have anything else going on, of course." Sunghoon doubts it, judging solely from Sunoo's crestfallen expression, but he says it anyway, if only to let the boy feel a little better.

Just like that, Sunoo beams again, like a little sunflower that perks up only in the presence of sunlight. Sunghoon laughs at the mental imagery of Sunoo drooping and recharging again and again—he thinks it's rather adorable. Sunoo the rechargeable sunflower. "You know what," Sunoo starts off playfully, "I have a _lot_ of things to do but I think I can clear my schedule, make some time for you..."

"Right," he plays along, and Sunoo flashes him another grin, and _god_ , it takes every morsel of Sunghoon's pathetic self-control to not let his eyes drift to the boy's glossy lips. He wants to say something, the words are already rising in his throat and his mouth's hanging open anyway... Sunoo looks like he _knows_ because he wears an expression that tells Sunghoon he's listening intently. He's not sure what this connection between the two of them was spontaneously founded on, but Sunghoon feels like it's stable, and he likes that.

" _Sunghoon_ , right?" A girl cuts into the conversation, shamelessly wedging herself in the space between the two of them. Sunoo blinks, surprised, then purses his lips and shoves his books angrily into his bag and zips it up quietly. He mouths a quick _I'm leaving_ to Sunghoon and scatters out the class without waiting for a reply.

Sunghoon watches the boy's back disappear into the hallway, swamped by people, and hopes that no one pushes Sunoo around. 

"I'm _here_ ," she giggles, and Sunghoon wonders if he really looks like he wants to be approached. "Minah," she introduces herself, twisting a lock of her brown hair around a finger and extending the other hand towards Sunghoon. He accepts it gingerly, like it would burn his skin off, but only because he doesn't want this girl going around telling others that he's rude. _Better to lay low on your first day_ , he assures himself. He's not looking to start up fights left and right in his first week—his parents would probably recant their decision in a heartbeat and subject him to the horror of homeschool again. Swallowing his temper down, he gives her hand a brief shake and lets it drop to her side.

"Sunghoon," he says and nods, making a show of throwing his bag over his shoulder as well so she'd hopefully get the sign and _leave._

"I'd have preferred for you to kiss it but I guess that's fine," she says loftily. "By the way, what's this I hear? You're going to have lunch with Kim Sunoo?"

At the mention of his name, an uneasy feeling takes root at the bottom of his stomach and begins to spread. He breaks the eye contact and makes for the class door, hoping that he'd be able to shake her off soon. To his chagrin, she tails him, perhaps blind to how vexed he looks. "You... really wouldn't want to sit with him. I think it's better that you sit with people like us instead." _Us_. Sunghoon understands instantly that she didn't mean her and friends, but had intended to group Sunghoon in together with her. When he casts a look back, he's almost ashamed to find himself considering the offer she slid onto the table. After all, his whole agenda and objective is to fit in and feel at home at school, and why not admit it? Somewhere deep down, Sunghoon thinks it might be cool to be perched at the top of the social pyramid of the school's population. He _craves_ a normal life that most teenagers have, and this is more than likely his only chance to break into the in crowd.

Sunoo doesn't look like he's on a quest to attain 'normal'. He's looking for something more, Sunghoon's sure.

Minah's pretty—she has eyes like a puppy, a slim nose, a pearly complexion, and perfect hair that just barely brushes her shoulders. She looks too much like the kind of girl his parents would want him to bring home for dinner.

"No thanks," he replies, edging off all the disappointment that curls like smoke around his voice, "I think I'd much rather eat with him."

He's not sure if he just made the right decision, but he supposes that's something only time will tell.

As luck would have it, Sunghoon's Hip-Hop instructor is an intimidating man who's in his early thirties and stands at 6 feet tall. Sunghoon is dwarfed in his presence, but he's grateful nevertheless when he realizes that the man isn't the kind of person who'd dwell on introductions and ice-breaking sessions. He quickly arranges for Sunghoon to pair up with Ryujin, who comes off cold at first but is pleasantly surprised when Sunghoon can keep up. He casts many looks to steal glances at her expression to intermittently check if she stays impressed or is irked that he makes the wrong move from time to time.

He isn't used to the heavy beat of Hip-Hop music and has already guessed that out of all his dance classes, this would eventually morph into the stuff of nightmares for him.

But Mr. Son isn't big on public humiliation and Sunghoon whispers a quick _thank you_ whenever he's herded aside to practice one-on-one with the man if he's caught lagging behind considerably. All his classmates are high in energy, shouting out the counts together, but remain collectively quiet when they're granted breaks that last no more than five minutes. They don't even form small groups, just drift to empty corners to scroll through their phones. As the day progresses forward, he finds his appreciation for Sunoo's warm and amicable self mounting to new heights. He doesn't even think he sees anyone from Math this morning here.

During their third break, Ryujin sighs and pulls him by the shoulder to the back of the room to practice the third sequence till he finally gets it.

"Okay?" he asks, keeling over and hoping he'll finally hear some words that somewhat sound encouraging. He's almost all knocked out and drained—Ryujin has a healthy sheen of sweat on her skin, but otherwise, she seems to still possess the ability to stand there just fine, her breathing stable and clear.

"Better," she concedes, hands on her hips as she stares at their reflection, mirth playing in her smirk. "Don't worry, I think you're just wearing the wrong kind of shoes so it might hurt a bit more today. If we don't have practices after school hours, we only do this once a week. It's all theory and history after this. Might wanna start working out to improve your stamina, though."

His eyebrows furrow and deep creases form between them. "I _do_ work out," he argues.

She scoffs and stretches before regrouping back in the center of the studio where Mr. Son is calling for them again. "Clearly not enough!" she throws over her shoulder.

Dipping into the recesses of his energy reserve, Sunghoon somehow manages to summon enough willpower to get back onto his feet and stagger back to the group, where he decides to hang around in the back while their instructor starts speaking. He initially thought their teacher was just angry, what with all the orders being barked into their faces, but he soon learns that Mr. Son is relatively level-headed and just has a loud, booming voice. And if Ryujin's words are anything to go by, " _His dry humor's pretty funny if you can look past the... rough exterior."_

"Okay guys, great work today. Yeonjun, I want you leading the class next Monday for _Collapse_ ,"he says, gesturing towards a tall boy in the first row. It's hard to miss him, considering how he's sporting radioactive green hair with the brightest yellow highlights in it. Then Mr. Son's calling out his name and Sunghoon does his best to straighten out his spine though his breathing is still coming out heavy. "Sunghoon-ah, you put in great effort but I think you can still push your limit. Start working out more,"—Ryujin shoots him an all-knowing smirk—"and you'll find that you can go on dancing for a bit longer. Is it okay if I put you under Yeonjun and Ryujin's care?"

Yeonjun swivels around and takes an exaggerated bow, and Sunghoon's eyes catch on how uniquely the corners of his mouth quirk upwards like that of a feline's.

"Yeah, I'd be honored," he replies, too overly formal that the class bursts into laughter at his expense.

Mr. Son cracks a small smile and walks over to pat Sunghoon on the back on his way out. "There's no need to be so scared of us—we don't bite. Amazing progress overall, guys. Keep it up and I'll see you next class!" There's a wave of applause, then it's essentially over. Class has ended with twenty minutes on the clock to lunch and his classmates are lazily making their way to the showers.

"Brought a change of clothes?" Yeonjun asks as he bounds over to Sunghoon. He nods. "Great, let's go."

Sunghoon thinks this is the kind of weird bordering on that bizarre quality of having a dream you can't decide is good or bad. Yeonjun's got an arm comfortably slung around his shoulders and he's telling a story, other hand flying all over in gestures to animate what he's saying. Yeonjun's got the whole class enraptured as they walk to the showers in one big mob and Sunghoon doesn't get how he can command attention so easily without having to... do something that's even vaguely _extraordinary._

He's always had to step onto the ice to finally get people to shut up and listen to what he has to say. He's never told a story using anything but his performances. He's always figured that it's because he's just not the eloquent type, but that isn't it either, is it? Suddenly, he's back in Jay's car and Heeseung's telling him that it's not the worst thing in the world to open up to people.

Hitting the showers isn't as awkward as he thought it would be—everyone just emerges in the fog-filled room in new clothes, exchange goodbyes, then book it for the cafeteria because the class has got them starving. They all nod towards Sunghoon, waving and patting him on the back like they're already friends even if Sunghoon's word count to them hasn't exceeded ten today. _It's strange,_ he thinks _, it's strange to have friends._

Yeonjun's cursing at his reflection while he towels his hair dry. "Ah, fuck," he hisses, "all this bleaching is making my hair fall like crazy. I think I'm going to be bald by thirty."

And Sunghoon just smiles because he's not sure what to say.

"You don't dye your hair often? You're a performer, aren't you?"

_Performer._ It's the first time someone has referred to what he did as a performance, rather than sports. _Performer_. The word nestles safely into the bottom of his heart and he wants to keep it there forever.

"I've always wanted to, but my coach thinks black is... better. Anything that requires bleaching is too idol-ish."

"I've seen you competing, by the way," the older boy reveals. "You're really _really_ good. Mainly I just searched up some figure skating videos to watch because I'm obsessed with _Yuri on Ice_ , but there's something about the way you skate that draws me in. You're on a break now?"

Just like that, Sunghoon's easy smile slips off as quickly as it appeared. He looks down, the next exhale drawing a deep sigh from a place he didn't know existed. He aches to go back, Jay was right about that. But he can't, not until he accomplishes something. The part that absolutely complicates this paradox further is that Sunghoon really isn't sure what he's supposed to accomplish. And he's going to take a break till he finds out _what_. "I am..." he lets his answer trail off while he tries to explain _why_. "I think it was taking a toll on me. Physically and mentally."

"Yeah? I suppose pulling off all those spins every day is bound to land you a few painful injuries," Yeonjun winces like he's feeling the pain.

"It's not just that—the best way I can explain it is that... I never used to mind getting injured before. And suddenly one day, you land wrong and twist your ankle and you start to think you would've never twisted your ankle if you weren't skating in the first place." Sunghoon's using all the words he can to best illustrate that helplessness that won't leave him like a blackhole's growing and growing in the center of his being, but he gives up soon enough. He looks at Yeonjun apologetically. "I must sound stupid," he scoffs, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Just ignore it. It's dumb."

He folds his towel and prepares to leave. He _is_ about to leave, when he realizes that Yeonjun's cat-like gaze is still nailed onto him, his mouth slightly open like he's trapped in his thoughts.

"You know, Sunghoon? It's not dumb. I really get what you mean," he says finally. "I once felt that way about dance, too. It just hit me out of the blue and that feeling stayed with me for months. Plagued me till I was starting to second-guess my decision to come here."

Sunghoon's focus returns and his heartbeat speeds up upon the increasing likelihood that there's finally someone who can empathize with him.

"And do you? Think that you made the right decision?"

"Well, I'm still here, aren't I? It's just... being burned out, I think. I've always liked dancing and my mother likes to joke that I practically came into the world dancing on my literal _birth_ day. So they sent me to classes and worked _so_ hard to get me here. The first few years in middle school were _amazing_. It was really like nothing could go wrong. Then one day— _bam!_ I'm dancing, and it doesn't feel like I'm dancing. There's no rhythm, no excitement, no feelings. I was so fucking scared that I've lost the talent everyone said I was born with. I thought that I _really_ didn't deserve my place here. I think they call it Impostor Syndrome or something?

"Anyway, like you, I let myself take a break. And it's the best thing I ever did because while the transition was great at first and went flawlessly, I suddenly realized I couldn't live without it. I came back, more inspired and dedicated to the art than ever before."

"So you think I'm experiencing... a burn out?"

Yeonjun cocks his head to one side and nods thoughtfully. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll find out—just give it time. Either way, you've made a good decision for yourself. Whether you come out of this break feeling like you _need_ to get back in the rink or realizing that it really wasn't what you wanted to do, the important part is that you'd have learned to forgive your feelings."

After that, Yeonjun tells Sunghoon that he has a prior engagement so he leaves campus (that's against the rules, but Yeonjun really doesn't give two shits) and Sunghoon walks to the cafeteria alone.

And his feet are sore and his fists are clenched, because Yeonjun's got him thinking what it means to forgive his own feelings.

It isn't hard to locate the cafeteria, not when it feels like the entire student population is racing each other to get there faster. The place, when he arrives, is packed full despite how large it is, extending into four corridors that connect all the wings together. It's only two-story but it feels like more, considering how arched the high domed ceiling is. Square glass panels grant access to the natural light and today the weather's particularly nice with blue clouds overhead and not a cloud in sight, so the other light fixtures are all turned off. It's not hard to see how the hierarchy works here. He's seen too many coming of age moves that he'd like to admit to overlook the fact that where you sit on the first day pretty much determines your standing at the school.

_Not that I_ care, he tells himself, but it's hard to shake off the uneasy feeling that people may be watching his every move in here.

A quick text from Heeseung later, Sunghoon's bounding up the steps to the second floor where they were seated, eager to see some familiar faces for a change. As he approaches the rowdy table, he counts exactly three more people he's never seen before and ducks his head in greeting, to which he caught Jay and Heeseung smiling approvingly at like proud parents. He drops his bag onto the empty seat they left for him. "Hi, I'm Sunghoon," he says and hopes that will suffice for now.

" _The_ ice prince in flesh himself," Jay jokes, following up with his annoying laugh. Sunghoon's too shy around new people to send a glare his friend's way, so he just lets his ears burn with embarrassment while he waits for the moment to pass.

"Hey, I hear we're the same age!" exclaims the guy sitting right across him. His hair is flopping in all directions as he speaks and his smile is wide and unabating like he isn't even trying to hold off his excitement. It's infuriatingly contagious and Sunghoon feels the genuine warmth radiating from this guy chipping off steadily at the wall he's built up between him and most strangers. "I'm Jake Shim."

"Yang Jungwon," the boy next to Jake introduces himself next. Two deep dimples accentuate the sweetness of his smile and Sunghoon gets the feeling that this guy might be younger than the rest of them when he takes in his boyish looks. 

"He's the resident sheep," Heeseung announces, nudging Jungwon's shoulders to get a rise out of the boy. " _Yang_ , get it? Sheep! He's a _pretty_ violent sheep, though, so watch what you say around him."

"And finally, our Niki!" Jay pats the back of the third boy, who's busy shaking his blond hair out his eyes when he realizes it's his turn to speak. He manages a clumsy bow and a stiff smile, accompanied by the world's tiniest wave before the whole group breaks into coos and cheers to encourage Niki to talk more. It isn't hard to guess that this Niki might be the youngest among them, considering how he was currently being doted on and cared for by four other boys. Jay looks up from the blushing Niki to explain, "He's from Japan and tends to be on the quieter side because he's shy about his korean, but man,"—he huffs, looking at the boy with a father-like smile—" _is_ he amazing at dancing. He even got in on scholarship!"

When Niki cracks a grin of child-like glee, Sunghoon makes up his mind to protect this boy _at all costs._

"My full name is Nishimura Riki, but Niki will do!" he stutters shyly. "I hope we can be good friends. I've seen you on TV before."

Sunghoon's eyes widen. "You have?"

"Yes!" The boy nods vigorously, then mimes a circle around his neck. "Receiving th-the..."

"The medal?" Jungwoon supplies.

Niki nods again, appreciatively this time. "I saw you receive the gold medal. Sorry, I get stuck on some words sometimes."

"There's no need to apologize!" Sunghoon quickly reassures him. "I think your Korean is just fine! You're really good at your pronunciation."

"Wow I don't think I've ever seen you being this kind before," Jay teases, drumming his fingers against the table as he carefully examines Sunghoon. The latter can almost _see_ the cogs turning in his head. Jay _always_ looks like he's laughing at a joke even when no one is saying anything—at some point, Sunghoon even thought Jay was being haunted by the flowery ghost of his grandmother. "Hey Sunghoon, thought you'd make some friends to introduce to us at lunch but I guess you didn't."

Heeseung's eyes dart back and forth between Jay's pest-like face and Sunghoon's blank stare while his brain _really_ short-circuits this time.

How could he forget about Sunoo?

"It's fine Hoonie, no one expects you to make a friend on your first day itself. No—that sounds bad. I mean—" Heeseung stammers, trying to decide which option in his head sounds less patronizing in this situation.

"No actually I _did_ invite someone," Sunghoon interrupts, standing up suddenly, then sitting again. He's not sure what to do. He hasn't eaten yet, so he guess he could rush down there, grab a plate of something and locate his new friend before Sunoo starts to think Sunghoon might've ditched him like a jerk. He _is_ a jerk, for even letting it slip his mind that he promised to eat with Sunoo today, so he it really isn't that far from the truth. "But I don't see him around..."

"Relax, Hoonie, I was just joking. It's fine if you lost the bet. I'll like you go this time, like the good friend I am," Jay muses to himself, leaning back into his chair with the pleased smirk of a lazy cat.

" _Really_ ," Sunghoon deadpans. "I'm not making this up. 'M gonna go look for him."

"What's his name? If we know him, we could probably tell you where he usually sits..." Jake suggests, shrugging nonchalantly. Sunghoon is glad there's at least _one_ helpful person sitting at their table.

"His name's Sunoo. I had Maths for first period with him this morning." He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's really not that great at being a friend, despite how hard he's trying today. Well, _trying hard_ in the context of Park Sunghoon, who lives and breathes only within the walls of his bedroom and the ice rink. He _really_ hopes that Sunoo just isn't at the cafeteria yet and not off somewhere assuming Sunghoon has chosen to eat with Minah instead.

He's too embroiled in his own thoughts and conflicts to realize that their table has gone eerily quiet.

" _Kim_ Sunoo?" Heeseung asks, his voice loud in the silence.

"Yeah, do you guys know him? He's wearing all pink today, if that helps. It's probably hard to miss him in a crowd..." he tries, the end of his sentence giving away slowly, absorbed by the consuming uncanny atmosphere wrapping them up in a bubble. "Um, why is everyone being weird?"

Jay seemingly snaps out of it, and this time when he speaks, there's no smile creeping into the edges of his voice. "Nothing," he mutters hurriedly, "I just didn't think you'd click with someone like Sunoo, I guess."

"Sunoo's... nice," slowly, Heeseung starts to say. _So_ slowly that he might as well be teaching a toddler how to pick up speech. "But he doesn't eat at the cafeteria, so we don't really see him around here."

"Yeah? Then where does he eat? I'd really feel bad if I just... leave him alone without warning. I should probably go look for him."

Jake ends up being the one to cave in, and he blurts it out like he can't stand holding on to a secret everyone's silently agreed not to share with Sunghoon. He thinks it's uncharacteristically weird for both Jay and Heeseung to keep something from his knowledge, but to be fair to himself, he doesn't exactly have the open window of time right now to question every inflection in their tones. "He usually eats sack lunch at the bleachers." His words grow quieter as he talks, drooping under the combined attention of everyone at the table. "I've seen him there a few times before."

"Thanks." He rises from his seat and he's about to go down again, when he scans the looks on their faces and decides it probably wouldn't be too good of an idea to bring Sunoo here until he gets the opportunity to interrogate his friends about the cold reception to Sunoo. He swings his bag over his shoulder and tries his hardest to not wince at the pain upon impact. It really _feels_ like he's carrying a bag of rocks. "See you guys tomorrow, I guess."

To his credit, Heeseung _does_ act like he wants to say something, but chooses not to. Instead, they all offer some uneasy tight-lipped smiles that Sunghoon doesn't find enough motivation to return before he sets off on his mission to the bleachers.

He's seen where the track is, and it's relatively close to the main building of their sprawling school grounds. Sunghoon thinks that he's probably not dumb enough to get lost on his first day.

Before he heads out to the north exit, Sunghoon makes sure to swing by the fruit section to grab two tangerines.

He's right.

It's hard to miss Sunoo. He just stands out like a sore thumb refusing to blend in. Even from afar, Sunghoon could already vaguely make out the slight pink shape of a boy perched alone on the white stands. His steps pick up in pace just like the pumping organ in his ribcage—it's beating like it wants _out_ of Sunghoon's body and he shoves the thought to the back of his mind. _If anything, it's because you're just exhausted,_ he thinks, but even that reasoning falls short of convincing to himself. The two tangerines bulge obnoxiously from his deep pockets and he really does hope Sunoo doesn't mind that he isn't the greatest at picking out good fruit. He doesn't know what's considered too ripe or how to tell if something's ripe in the first place. He suspects it's got something to do with the color of their skin but he wasn't sure, so he just swiped the ones perched on top of the neatly arranged pyramids.

As he draws nearer to Sunoo, he makes out the slight frown on his pink lips as the boy looks into the distance pensively like he's contemplating the reason why the Earth turns on its axis.

"Hey." Sunghoon didn't mean for the greeting to come out like he's desperately trying to catch his breath. It definitely doesn't come off as smooth as he'd planned for it to sound, but it grabs Sunoo's attention all the same.

The boy's mouth falls into an _O_ and Sunghoon plops down next to him, careful to leave ample space between them. Or what he _considers_ is enough, anyway.

"I didn't see you in the cafeteria," he explains as he slips a hand into his pocket to pull out the tangerines one by one. "So I asked around to see if anyone knows where you'd be. Here, I brought you these."

"I, um... thanks," Sunoo sputters. Sunghoon doesn't know what's possessing him, but he's breaking out a huge smile at how perplexed and flustered Sunoo looks so he holds one of the fruits up to Sunoo's face like he's making a comparison.

"I wish I hadn't grabbed the tangerines," he sighs.

Sunoo holds out his palm, small next to Sunghoon's, and his fingers close around the fruit when Sunghoon drops it. "Why not?" he asks softly. He's looking up at Sunghoon through his eyelashes and Sunghoon thinks the boy isn't trying to do it on purpose, but _god_ is his heart racing. He shouldn't be this perturbed over a boy. His thoughts shouldn't be so muddled and muddied with prose though he's not one for literature or poetry. But there are all these ways his brain is trying to correlate the prettiest words within reach of his vocabulary with the freckles spattered on Sunoo's skin and he really doesn't know why. _It must be because_ —

He can't find a reason for this one, but he'll keep searching when Sunoo's not looking at him like _that_.

"I think peaches would be more on-brand with your outfit today."

Sunoo's eyes curve into crescents and he sets about to peeling off the tangerine skin. "You know, it isn't a good idea to give someone oranges. Or tangerines."

"Why not?"

"You'll see. I'll keep it a secret for now." He pops the first wedge into his mouth and hums, clearly happy. "This is really good, thank you. A perfect dessert."

"You've already eaten?"

"I had some kimbap. Want some?" He nudges the sack lunch towards Sunghoon, and while the latter wants to decline out of politeness, he catches a whiff of it and his stomach betrays their pact immediately.

Sunghoon flushes. "Sorry, I haven't eaten anything yet."

"Don't eat tangerines on empty stomachs," the boy nags, then pulls out a perfect roll and offers it to Sunghoon, who graciously accepts with a flurry of thanks. He pops it into the mouth, and is taken with delight by how flavorful each bite is. There's cheese and tuna, his favorite combination, and it's all the convincing Sunghoon needs to devour the rest of the food Sunoo keeps handing to him. He hasn't felt this good about eating so much in a long time, but soon Sunoo's already crumpling up the brown bag proudly and tucking it into a container. "I made that, you know."

The older boy grins, splitting his own tangerine into two so that he can offer the bigger half to Sunoo. "You seem to like these."

"Well, it's a good day," Sunoo muses.

"What merits a good day for you?" He's genuinely curious—Sunoo looks like the kind of person to think _every day_ is a good day.

Sunoo shrugs the question off and it takes Sunghoon longer than a beat to realize he's not going to fish an answer for that one out of Sunoo today. "I'm sorry you had to come looking for me. I kinda figured..."

"That I decided not to?" Sunghoon finishes for him.

The younger boy nods sheepishly and apologizes with a diffident smile like he's unsure of something. Maybe Sunghoon's reading _all_ his smiles wrong. Maybe he should take up a class called What Sunoo's Smiles Mean. Either way, Sunoo leaves him confused in the best way possible. Like his choice of clothes, the way he's so comfortable with acting cute, the way the ends of his sentences often trails off when he thinks he's talking too much. Sunoo's very much like a puzzle Sunghoon's trying to disassemble and examine by the nano unit.

"Just don't assume stuff like that again. I'd like to eat with you everyday, if you don't think I'm boring. _If_ you don't mind."

"I'd like that," Sunoo swallows.

"Is there a reason you don't dine at the cafeteria? I have some friends there, and if you're okay with it you should eat with us!"

"I think it isn't _me_ you should be asking."

Something's wrong. Sunoo's evasive—and he doesn't think it's normal, so Sunghoon decides not to push it. "What are you majoring in, by the way? I mean, your specialization. Whatever it is they call it—you know what I mean."

"Ah, I started with Vocals but halfway through the first year I changed to Composition and Arrangement."

"You like that better?"

"It's _okay._ "

"What's your favorite color?"

"It changes every day."

"Is it pink today?" Sunghoon asks, squinting at Sunoo, trying to figure out why the boy's suddenly put up an invisible shield and was fending off Sunghoon's attempts at small talk like they were infectious diseases.

Sunoo cracks and a small smile slips through. For the nth time that day, Sunghoon wishes he's had more social interaction before this. Enough to decipher the meaning behind different quirks of lips and small grins, anyway. He's never realized that there were so many different kinds out there before. He'd really just thought smiles could be divided and sorted into two final categories: genuine, or faked, and that was that. The younger boy holds out his arms and shakes them out so that the pink, flowing sleeves are in full view. "Yeah, you could say pink's my favorite today. But that's so _general,_ it's boring. There are many kinds of pinks, you know. And you'd never notice the difference if you don't pay attention."

"Different kinds of... pinks? They're all the same color though."

"See this is a dealbreaker for me, Park Sunghoon. I'm afraid we can't be friends beyond this point," huffed Sunoo as he turns away, gracefully tucking away his hands beneath his arms like a cat retracting its claws. " _Pinks_. The word wouldn't be plural if there aren't more shades than one."

Truthfully, Sunghoon doesn't know if Sunoo's telling the truth but it really _feels_ like it's true.

"Every type of pink holds its own meaning. It's blasphemy to claim that they're all the same thing..."

"Please, _e_ _laborate,"_ Sunghoon requests, and Sunoo accepts readily like he's been waiting for this moment all his life.

"See, say you've met twins," Sunoo begins, holding out both his palms to further illustrate his point. "And both of these twins, they become your best friends. At first, of course, they'll look the same to you, but you get to know them and they're both _very different people_. They like different things, enjoy different activities, and overall have completely different personalities. Even in the cases where all those are similar, you'll learn to distinguish between the two of them because they have their _own names._ Different people—separate entities. That's what colors are. They'll belong to the same common category, but they'll never be the same, so to speak."

"Huh." He's never thought about it that way. Without thinking much, he pinches a bit of the fabric of Sunoo's shirt between his fingers and asks, "What color is this then?"

"Don't tease," Sunoo puffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious about this."

Sunghoon rolls his shoulders and smiles. "So am I. I'm intrigued—what color is this, really?"

He can't be sure, but he thinks Sunoo might be blushing. It's Autumn, and it always feels like the day's going by faster. He doesn't know why the sky does what it does, but on certain days, even in the afternoon, the sky would go exploding into the craziest of colors. Now that Sunoo's brought this theory into his life, Sunghoon isn't sure if he'll be able to look at the sky without wondering how many shades are hidden in the seams and clouds after this. "Amaranth." Then Sunoo points to his pants. _Thulian_. _Cerise patterns_. His eyeshadow is something called _taffy_ , and his brain struggles to keep up with how fast Sunoo is speaking.

Sunghoon isn't sure if it's even a thing, but if he has to choose a favorite shade of pink, it would be the color of Sunoo's cheeks when he's blushing, exhilarated from talking so much about something he's excited about.

_Blush pink_.

Yeah, he thinks that's as pretty as pink gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter is @ricecookerym 
> 
> i love you all the comments yall left last chapter omg!!! I literally woke up to those comments and i smiled so hard my cheeks hurt >.< it's honestly been months since i've written anything of importance, and when i tell you the meaning behind this fic is so so truly important to me, i mean it!
> 
> so thank you all for the kind comments, i really really am wowed by the good reception


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